Heart of Glass
by Tettekete
Summary: It all could have been so simple. Oneshot. Warning: character death


**Authors note: I'm not really a shipping kind of person, but this idea has been floating around in my head for a while and I just had to get it written. I have to confess I'm a huge fan of both Thropp sisters and I'm not very fond of Boq (I've never written him before either, but I have written Nessa)... so I apologise if this reflects badly in my writing, and if this whole idea has been done before. Happy(?) reading! **

* * *

Boq paced the room, restlessly watching as the Eminence of the East sat in her wheelchair and sipped from the teacup he'd brought her. The sight of her made him shake with resentment... ever since graduating, he had been reduced to less than a human being. He was her slave. They _all_ were. Every Munchkinlander. All because of _her_ and her wicked lust for power. And now, as Nessarose Thropp sat in front of her window, a sudden feeling of nausea rose within him. Rage that he couldn't control. How could she be so calm? _How could she look so **innocent**? _

He had lived this sorry excuse for a life for far too long. Things needed to change drastically, and no one had the nerve to do what needed to be done. No one but him.

Boq eyed the Eminence's dresser, his gaze instantly falling on gleaming metal. His slender fingers brushed the tip, and closed around the handle of the sharp letter opener. He spoke quietly, breaking the stifling silence. "I... can't do this anymore." He waited and watched as Nessarose turned to him, her dark eyes boring into him with their inquisitive charm. _It's all a lie, don't fall for it... _

"What? Boq, what are you talking about?"

Her ignorance astounded him, and he let out a sigh of frustration. "This. All of this! I'm _through_ with it," he snapped, pointing his makeshift knife at Nessarose, surprising himself with his own confidence. "I'm taking back my life... the little that's left of it."

Alarmed, Nessa held a hand out to him, attempting to coax him back to her side, never breaking eye contact. His resolve always crumbled before her, it always did. "Don't do this, I'm begging you." She could only choke out the words as she advanced, leaning forward in her chair, and gesturing to the Munchkin with open arms.

"Don't come any closer!"

"I _love_ you. Boq, have you misplaced your mind?"

"Stop, stop..." Boq hissed, grasping the knife so tightly that his knuckles turned white with the strain. "I'm leaving at sunrise, and you can't stop me."

The weapon shook in his hands as Nessa approached him. It did not belong there, just as such a base instinct did not belong in him. Boq was a kind young man, a man with a warm heart... a huge heart. He prided himself on it. Yet he had known all along that within it, there was no room for Nessarose Thropp.

One could not force oneself to love another. It was impossible. If only it were that simple... he could have conditioned himself and perhaps in time, he would have grown to love her. Or at least like her. But life scarcely worked that way, and Boq could only bide his time as he sunk further into his adoration for Glinda. It had always been her. No one else. Never the girl in the chair.

He lowered the knife. Defeated. He could never hope to rebel against the Eminent Thropp for long, but... no, he couldn't do it any longer.

Boq let Nessa wrap her ever possessive arms around him. He pulled her up from her chair and let her lean against him. He held her up, and felt himself being smothered as she just about melted in his arms... he could not bear it, as he could not bear the stifling prison Nessarose had built around him. Images of Glinda flashed through his mind: blonde locks, and dazzling sapphire eyes tormenting him from afar.

He grit his teeth and in one swift motion, he captured Nessa's lips with his own. To block out the images of Glinda, perhaps. Or to silence the Witch of the East with the one thing she had craved from the beginning. Love. Honest simple love, and damn the pity to Hell. Nessarose had only wanted to be loved for _her_. It was the one thing that was always so far from her grasp.

But this was far from love.

He felt her respond desperately. Her hand gripping the back of his jacket, her nails digging into him as though she were trying to claw into the skin beneath, to mark him. He felt her groan into his mouth and then wrench away quickly, clutching at her stomach where Boq had thrust his knife. And still, he kept her upright, for her twisted legs could not hold her. He should have let her fall.

"Boq, _why_..." Her eyes brimmed over with despair, with betrayal... yet the obsessive love she held for him still burned through the tears. He had given her what she wanted and snatched it away just as quickly. Cruelly. Just as she had taken everything from him... but she had given him so much more, why couldn't he see that? _And he still didn't love her_.

Boq extracted himself from her weakening grasp and slowly lowered her to the floor.

And there the Witch's cold exterior faded away, leaving behind the frail, innocent young woman from years past. The warmth was gone now and there she lay, as cold and broken as the mirror that hung from her armoire.

* * *

Boq fled later that night, finding himself unable to stay inside the mansion. The guilt ate away at him little by little, but he reminded himself he had done what needed to be done. The laws stopping the Munchkinlanders from crossing the border were revoked, and with his newfound freedom he fled to the city. To catch a glimpse of Glinda, perhaps, or to drown himself in the sea of green and frivolous entertainment only the capital could provide. Despite being free, Boq felt as though the stand off back at Colwen Grounds had changed him more than he cared to admit.

He was a loving man.

_He took advantage of her. _

He was Munchkinland's savior!  
_  
A murderer. _

But the Witch of the East had enslaved the entire land, she had ruined him...

_She was lonely. _

The Munchkin took a swig of ale, and slumped against the table. He sat in a corner, hidden and unseen. He hoped to remain that way, for Elphaba Thropp had unknowingly lost her sister at his hands, and her caricatured wanted posters haunted him wherever he went.

In the back of his mind he wished more than anything that he hadn't taken her to the Ozdust all those years ago. It could have been so simple.


End file.
